


The Circle Is Broken

by darkendeavours



Category: Kill Your Darlings (2013)
Genre: AU - Psych Ward, Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:58:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkendeavours/pseuds/darkendeavours
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Psych Ward AU: Allen has just been admitted into a psych ward. It's there that he meets Lucien Carr -- intoxicating, brilliant, and potentially dangerous. But the closer Allen gets to Lu, the more he realizes that even the most perfect are flawed, and that life isn't always as easy as it seems to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Allen Ginsberg_

  
The signature is messy and hardly legible, but the stout woman behind the desk deems is suitable and takes back the paperwork from Allen’s hands. “Why did I have to sign those?” Allen asks, trying to sound more curious than defensive. The woman doesn’t look up from the papers, checking each and every one to make sure that Allen’s signed them all “Because,” she says with a bored sigh, as though she’s said this to him a million times already “You’re here because you want to be here, and the papers you just signed tell us that you agree to stay here out of no one’s will but your own”

  
Allen doesn’t say anything in response to that – but he of course thinks it. Because no, he doesn’t want to be here and yes, he’s here against his will. He wasn’t here because he thought he was sick and he needed to be there, but because his parents thought he did. Allen knew he wasn’t sick. Allen knew that it was his parents who were sick, for sending him to a place like this. He isn’t sick, but he isn’t stupid, either. A sure-fire way to end up in King’s Park for the rest of your life is to tell them that you’re not sick, that you’re not crazy. So Allen doesn’t say anything.

  
There’s a long silence that Allen finds more than a little uncomfortable, but the woman behind the desk doesn’t seem to mind. The silence is only broken by the sound of her starting to type, a sound that makes Allen’s fingers twitch and his hands tremble. He’s a writer, a poet for Christ sakes. He doesn’t belong here and it’s taking all of his will power not to scream that fact at the top of his lungs. Allen adjusts where his glasses sit crooked on his nose, such a simple movement suddenly difficult with the lack of steadiness in his hands.

  
“Ginsberg, Allen” says a voice from his right, making Allen jump and turn in his chair. There’s another woman, a tall one with dark hair and glasses that remind Allen of his own, staring down at a clipboard that Allen knows has all of his information on it; he can tell by the way she’s reading it. She speaks again, this time looking up at him with a smile that makes Allen cringe a little “If you’ll come with me, please” she says, gesturing an arm out towards an open set of glass double doors that look like they’ll shatter if the air hits them wrong.

  
Allen is slow to stand, afraid, but he follows the woman (who later introduces herself to him as a nurse named Edie), as they walk through what look like abandoned hallways, with peeling paint on the walls and ceilings with cracks in them. The walk is long, but not silent, because Edie keeps talking and talking and talking, despite the fact that Allen has clearly stopped listening to her a long while ago. Allen stares down at his feet for most of the walk, until he hears noises other than Edie’s voice. They’re quiet and distant, but the more Allen walks, the louder they get, and it gives him a strange sense of anticipation. His fear, of course, still hasn’t left him.

  
At the end of the hall they’re walking in, the one with blue peeling paint where the light seems brighter, there’s only one door with a clouded glass window, which looks just as broken as every single other window Allen’s seen in the hospital. Edie opens the door ahead of Allen, but lets him walk in to the room first, and Allen realizes that it’s the first time since meeting Edie that she’s stopped talking.

  
The room Allen’s stepped in to is in worse shape than the hallways, but he can tell it’s just from the amount of use the room looks like it gets. There are couches and chairs that are ripped and broken and splintered, and a few tables with board games on them that are clearly missing pieces. “This is the day room” Edie says from just behind him, looking around the room herself with a familiar fondness. There are eleven men in the room – Allen counted –, all of whom look either dead, high, drunk, or all three. “Edie” a man calls out from where he’s sprawled out across one of the couches, a bright smile on his face; it’s the first smile Allen has seen since he left home. “Jack” Edie says, nodding over to him in acknowledgment. She’s trying to be professional, but Allen can tell from the colour of her cheeks and the way she’s biting her lip to hold back a smile that she doesn’t want to be so formal with him. The stay like that for a while, Jack staring at Edie and smiling and Edie staring right back until a smile finally comes across her face. Jack seems to take that as a victory and goes back to lying on the couch.

  
Edie clears her throat a little and fixes her hair before she starts talking to Allen again “These are the other boys in the wing. Including yourself, there are only going to be thirteen of you sharing the space” she says, looking at each and every one of the men in the room before her face drops a little, but she doesn’t say anything. Allen counts everyone again, and including himself, he still only counts twelve. But he decides it’s a trivial thing not worth commenting on. Edie straightens out her all too white nurse’s outfit and leads Allen straight through the day room, her walk a little faster than before and her body a little tenser – something’s bothering her, but she doesn’t let that stop her from doing her job.

  
Across from the door they came through is another hallway, but it’s shorter, with eight doors lining the walls (there are three on each side of the hall, plus two at the end). Edie walks Allen to the middle door on the left, opening the door and stepping in to the room first this time. It’s small, Allen notices as he steps in, just enough room for two beds and a dresser between them. “This will be your room. You’ll be sharing it with William” Edie says “You’re lucky, I’d say. William is a… very calm man” she says, for lack of better words. Allen nods a little, trying to take in the entire situation without _really_ having a mental collapse. Edie looks through the papers on the clipboard, flipping through them before she finds the information she wants. “You’ll get medicine twice a day, once in the morning after breakfast, and once at night before bed. Breakfast is at nine o’clock every morning, lunch is at noon, and dinner is at six-thirty. You can’t leave the ward, and you’ll have an appointment with the hospital’s therapist twice a week every week, which may change depending on your progress” she says, with an even more bored tone of voice than the woman behind the desk had used.

  
Allen tries to give her a thankful smile, but he finds it difficult to even pretend to be happy, even if just for a moment. “I’ll be around the ward if you need me, though I usually work in the women’s wing. David’s going to be the nurse looking after you boys, so if you need anything, just ask him” Edie says, before giving Allen one last smile and making a fleeting exit from the room. Allen watches her go, and sees the blush rise to her cheeks again when Jack smiles at her again. Allen sits cross-legged on the bed closest to the window, the one were his suitcase has been put. He’s lucky he didn’t have to carry his things himself, because his suitcase was almost too heavy for him to lift, with all of the books and journals he’s managed to cram in to it.

  
The window is, naturally, cracked down the centre, and there are iron bars on the outside, but Allen can still see out of it, and the view he gets puts his more insistent fears at ease: all his view is is a field, the grass yellowing and browning in some patches, with nothing standing on it to distract from the sky that stretches out above. No buildings, no cars, no people, no nothing. It’s calming. And that’s a feeling he certainly never felt when he was back home. And he has his books, so that’s even more of a comfort.

  
“You must be the new one” The voice makes Allen jump, pulled from his thoughts. He looks over at the door, and his heart skips more than one beat. Allen manages to nod a little, his eyes fixed to the blue ones staring back at him. “You’re not going to last two days” the other boy says with a smirk that makes Allen feel more than a little flustered. When Allen finally finds his voice, he says “And who, exactly, are you?” “Lucien Carr” the boy answers easily, resting his head against the door frame. “I’m Allen” Allen says in return. Lucien’s smirk becomes more apparent, but there’s a little hint of a smile in it too “Allen in Wonderland” he murmurs, the smile almost winning out over the smirk. Lucien’s gone from the doorway in a second, wandering off in to the day room.

  
That’s when Allen realizes that maybe he _should_ tell the doctors that he’s not crazy.


	2. Chapter 2

_Lucien_

It means light, Allen remembers. It’s fitting, really. Lucien casts a glow all his own, like there’s a light that radiates from him that’s crawled in to every piece of Allen’s mind. He sits on the bed for a while, motionless, lost in his head, as Allen often does. He shakes his head immediately when he catches himself slipping in to his mind, trying to bring himself back to reality. No, no more getting lost in thought. That was exactly what had gotten him in to this mess in the first place. According to his doctor, it wasn’t natural to think so deeply for so long.

It’s the sound of music that pulls Allen from his room. He can tell it’s close from how loud it is, but the sound of it is distant, sad. It matches the rest of the building, Allen supposes. If broken glass windows and peeling paint walls could make music, this, he decided, is what it would sound like. He hesitantly steps in to the once-white hall, following the sound of the dying music to the day room. The men are all still where Allen remember them being earlier, except that now, Lucien is draped over the couch opposite of the one Jack occupies. His eyes are closed, and a cigarette is held loosely between two of his fingers, threatening to fall to the ground should Lucien relax any further.

Allen glances around, unable to spot the source of the music, until his eyes fall on to the glass of the nurse’s station. There’s a very bored looking woman sitting behind the glass, her attention – or, what’s left of it – focused fully on the magazine in her hands. Beside her is a record player, and Allen breathes a sigh of relief that he’s not only hearing that broken melody in his head.

“You must be Allen.” The voice pulls Allen back to reality, and he’s thankful for it. The man that had spoken, Jack, sits up enough so that he’s only taking up half of the couch. Allen nods, taking a few hesitant steps closer to the couch. “Sit down” Jack says, gesturing to the free bit of couch, almost being physically able to feel the nervousness coming off of Allen. Wordlessly, Allen sits down, trying to seem more relaxed than he really feels. Jack sighs heavily, leaning over towards Allen and extending his hand “Jack Kerouac” he introduces, shaking Allen’s hand when the poet takes it. Allen takes that Jack already knows who he is (most likely thanks to Lucien), so he doesn’t bother to introduce himself. “You’re quiet” Jack says, just a hint of disappointment in his voice “You’ll fit in well with these guys”

“You’re generalizing” Lucien comments almost immediately, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes. Allen shifts around in his seat a little, but Jack doesn’t seem to notice. “You’ve already met Lu” Jack mutters, waving a hand in Lucien’s direction, before he gestures to another man, slumped over in a chair in the corner of the room “That’s Will. He’s your roommate, I think” Jack hums, cocking his head to the side as he looks over at Will “He’s pretty interesting when he isn’t high off those drugs they give him” he grins. The idea of taking medicine of any kind makes Allen uncomfortable, and as he glances over at Will, who looks practically dead in his chair, he isn’t reassured.

It’s at that moment that Lucien sits bolt upright, the cigarette moving from his fingers to his mouth in a second “So,” he begins, his eyes locking almost instantly with Allen’s. Allen finds himself unable to move, unable to look away, stuck under Lu’s intense gaze. After one look at the pair, Jack huffs out a sigh, knowing the awestruck look that Lucien tends to draw from people. He slides back down on the couch, closing his eyes and draping his arms across his face, knowing it’ll be useless to try and talk to Allen when Lucien’s got all of his attention. “What are you in here for?” Lucien asks bluntly, practically no expression on his features.

Allen can hardly think straight enough to remember to breathe, let alone speak. But just as Allen was sure he was going to begin stuttering out a mess of words, the opportunity was taken away from him. “Lucien” Allen turns to see a man, dressed all in crisp white, standing next to the couch, his arms folded over his chest “You know you can’t ask things like that.” Lucien’s gaze lingers on Allen for a few seconds longer, before it switches to the other man “There’s nothing wrong with being a little curious” Lucien says simply, before he takes a long drag of his cigarette. The man sighs “It’s the rules, Lucien. You know that” he breathes. Allen’s still staring at Lucien, and he’s sure he can do this happily for hours. To get lost in that glow, that light that surrounds him.

“You must be Allen” The voice makes Allen start, shoved head first out of his thoughts. He looks up to see the man, who must be a nurse, looking down at him with what Allen can only describe as a glare. “Yes” he answers with a nod, a certain sense of fear washing over him. “I’m David, the nurse for the ward” the man tells him. Allen doesn’t try to smile. David certainly isn’t smiling either. “I see you’ve met Lucien” David says, almost conversationally, but Allen can tell there’s something beneath it all, something that’s dark. Jealousy, maybe? Possessiveness sounds better. Allen shrinks away from the nurse, and David can tell almost immediately that he’s won. Lucien can tell too, apparently, because he’s trying his best to stare David down. David just seems pleased that Lu’s giving him the attention. “Have you taken your pills yet?” the nurses asks, simply raising an eyebrow in question.

That’s when that light surrounding the boy on the opposite couch seems to fade slightly. Allen could see it. David’s waiting for an answer that Lucien doesn’t look willing to give. Jack’s listening too, Allen knows, but he’s wisely chosen to stay completely out of the situation. “No” Lucien breathes the word as he breathes out smoke. David frowns, shaking his head as he takes a few steps closer to Lucien. “I gave you that extra cigarette. The least you can do for me is take your pills” he says quietly, as though no one else should be able to hear him. Allen isn’t quite sure that anyone else in the room is conscious enough to hear him, except maybe for Jack. “I’m not taking them” Lu hisses, his tone sharp. David didn’t even flinch, his frown only deepening “Lucien, you know what will happen if you don’t take your pills”

Allen knows what fear looks like. He’s been truly afraid more times in the past few years than most people are in their entire life. So Allen knows that it’s a look of pure fear that comes across Lucien’s face. The light around Lu, it crumbles, it falters, until it’s not shining any more at all. He looks lost, scared, _betrayed_. Allen doesn’t realize he’s staring until Lucien stares right back at him, and there’s something so powerful in that look that makes Allen feel even smaller than David’s already made him feel. “Fine” he hisses at David, even though he’s still looking at Allen “I’ll take them” Lucien finally submits. It’s only when David trails his hand gently along Lucien’s cheek that Lu’s eyes go back to the nurse “Good” David smiles, his fingers gently brushing Lucien’s skin.

Lucien is slow to stand, but he makes sure to pull away from David’s touch when he’s able to. David steps aside, letting Lu move past him. With David on his heels, Lucien walks towards the nurse’s station with his head down, but he makes sure to brush Allen’s hand with his own when he walks past the other couch. Allen’s hand feels numb where Lucien’s fingers have brushed it, and his heart skips a few beats in his chest. He sees Lucien flash him a quick smile, bordering a smirk, before he’s gone from Allen’s line of sight. David’s glaring at Allen, his jaw set and his teeth clenched, but he’s trying so hard not to let his anger show. David lets Lucien walk ahead of him, and when he’s far away enough, David stops next to Allen, staring down at him coldly “I wouldn’t get used to it” he says simply, seeing how that one simple touch had made Allen feel “He’s infectious like that” David mutters, before walking quickly ahead to catch up with Lu.

When the two had gone, Jack’s eyes open, and he glances over the couch to make sure neither David nor Lucien are close enough to be able to hear him “If I were you, I’d steer clear of Lu” Jack tells Allen, nudging the poet with his foot. “Why?” Allen asks quietly, moving his fingers around to see if he can get the feeling back in his hand.

“Because David’ll kill you if you don’t”


	3. Chapter 3

_David._

An unfitting name, Allen thinks, for a man like David. It means ‘beloved’ – and if there’s one thing that David is most certainly _not_ , it’s beloved. Not that he seems to care very much, though. That is, unless that lack of love comes from Lucien. Though Jack’s taunts fall deaf on David’s ears, Lucien’s are different; Lucien’s words hurt him. Allen watches David as the nurse flits about the day room, looking as bored as any one of the patients as he hands out little cups filled with colourless, nameless pills. Sometimes, when the nurses discover a certain patient or two haven’t been swallowing their pills, they come around and give out the pills individually.

“Hey,” fingers snap in front of Allen’s eyes, pulling his attention away from David and towards Jack, sitting next to him on the couch “Where’re you always goin’ in that head of yours?” Jack asks with an amused smile. Allen brushes his hair back out of a nervous habit and shrugs in response. “Always so quiet, Ginsy” Lucien says with that smile Allen is lovesick over. If it weren’t the fact that Lucien was, well, _Lucien_ , Allen wouldn’t have told anyone his last name. Some things, certain things, Allen thought he deserved to keep private, to keep his own. But Allen didn’t mind the nickname. No, it was actually quite the opposite. Now, there was something special between him and Lu – even if it was just a nickname.

Lucien hasn’t sat down since he entered the day room a few hours ago, pacing back and forth with his fingers pressed to his lips like there should be a cigarette in his hand. Sometimes, Allen notices, that Lucien’s hands shake. He isn’t sure if it’s from the medication, the lack thereof, or for an entirely different reason. Lu’s hovered near the couches all morning, but the second he catches sight of David stalking towards him with a small cup of pills in his hand, Lucien crosses the room to meet him halfway. Allen can see David smile at Lucien’s apparent eagerness, but it’s quick to fade; Allen guesses it has something to do with Lu’s constant reluctance to take his medicine. Jack, who’s made himself comfortable lying across the couch, his feet resting on Allen’s lap, is about to say something to Allen with a bright, beaming smile in that typical Jack way, but he follows Allen’s gaze and he shakes his head. “Kid, you gotta stop this” he says, kicking Allen’s thigh gently to try and pull him out of his head.

It takes Allen’s mind a moment to catch up with Jack’s words, but he turns to look at the young man eventually “Stop what?” he asks dumbly, a genuine question. Jack answers it with silence and a raised eyebrow, and Allen knows that he’s supposed to figure out the real answer on his own. “Why does David look at Lu like that?” Allen asks, half under his breath, in a constant fear that David will overhear anything he says. It’s something he’s noticed about David – he never tends to notice much unless Lucien is the subject of some conversation. Allen doesn’t realize it until he earns a sharp glare from David, but he’s staring over in Lucien’s direction again, even though Lu’s back is to him. He feels it more than he hears it, when Jack gives a dejected sigh, his whole body relaxing just a fraction more when he comes to the realization that he can’t steer Allen’s attention away from Lucien. “Because,” Jack says, as though he’s said it a thousand and one times “He’s just as obsessed with Lu as you are.” Allen makes a bit of a face at that – he hates that word. Obsessed. Obsessive. Obsessive-compulsive.

“I’m not _obsessed_ with him,” Allen says, the word bitter tasting on his tongue. Jack doesn’t let Allen defend himself, dismissing him with a roll of his eyes and an airy scoff. Allen tries to tear his eyes away from Lucien, just to prove his point to Jack, but suddenly he hears Lucien raise his voice, and suddenly all he can see is Lu and David. Jack’s looking at them now, too. He can only hear parts of their conversation, Lu’s voice cracking like he’s going to break down, David’s voice stern and cold and grating on Allen’s ears. Lu’s hands clench in to white-knuckled fists, and for a few moments, Allen’s afraid that Lucien’s nails are digging deep enough in to his palms to draw blood. But then David’s hand is on Lucien’s shoulder, firm, possessive, and it’s like the life drains from Lucien’s body all at once. Lu hangs his head in defeat, his shoulders sag, and his hands uncurl – Allen can see the angry red welts in Lucien’s palms.

And then Allen looks at David, and his stomach turns. David’s grinning from ear to ear, watching Lucien’s surrender, as he drops his hand from Lu’s shoulder to the small of his back. He pulls Lucien half an inch closer to him, and Allen’s entire body tenses; Jack feels it, and firmly pushes at Allen’s chest with his feet, to keep Allen stationary on the couch. If Jack wasn’t already doing a good enough job of keeping Allen frozen in place, the look that David gives him over Lucien’s shoulder certainly would. It’s dark, it’s cold – it says _stay away_ as much as it says _I’ve won_. Allen thinks about what Jack had told him. Thinks about if David really would kill him if he didn’t keep his distance from Lucien. The look in David’s eyes now makes Allen think that he would. That he could. That he wants to.

With his hand still pressed to Lu’s back, David leads Lucien out of the day room – away from where they can be seen, Allen thinks – and towards Lucien’s room. Even after David is gone, and Allen’s left staring at the cracked tile floor where he’d been standing, he can’t find it in himself to move. Jack lifts his feet from Allen’s lap with a soft sigh and stands, stretching out his back, before he snaps his fingers in Allen’s face. The sudden intrusion in his line of vision makes him jump, and suck in a deep breath. His lungs are on fire, like he’s been holding his breath for an hour. It isn’t the same sort of breathlessness that he gets from being around Lu. It isn’t the same sort of euphoric high, the kind that happily makes him lightheaded, the kind he would gladly let overwhelm him and overtake him. It’s the kind that makes his body ache and his head throb. It’s the kind that he feels when he doesn’t take his medication. Or when he takes too much of it.

“What—” Allen starts to speak, but his throat is too dry. “David and Lu have history,” Jack says with a simple shrug. Allen feels like his heart has been ripped from his chest, but if appearance is an indication, Jack hardly feels the same way. Perhaps it’s because Jack doesn’t see Lucien in the same light, Allen thinks; maybe it’s because Jack doesn’t understand Lucien like Allen does. Maybe he’s just pretending that this was all okay. Whatever the reason, Jack doesn’t look phased. It’s almost more unsettling than watching David touch Lucien. Allen swallows, and clears his throat “What kind of history?” he asks. He doesn’t bother trying to hide the waver in his voice. Jack doesn’t respond right away. Allen thinks he sees a little fear in Jack’s eyes – but he knows that that isn’t possible. He doesn’t think Jack can be afraid. Doesn’t think Jack knows how. Jack glances over his shoulder, down the hallway where David had led Lu, and when he seems satisfied that David won’t be returning in the next few seconds, he leans in closer so only Allen can hear him. “Not supposed to talk about it,” he whispers “Only me and Will know. David’s not gonna like it if we go tellin’ everyone in the ward about it.” Perhaps Jack’s not afraid of David. But he’s not stupid, either.

Allen leaves the conversation there, doesn’t force Jack to tell him. Another day, maybe. But not today. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to take more of David today. Jack sits back down at the opposite end of the couch, and drapes himself back over Allen’s lap. He falls asleep there not long after. Allen manages to slide out from beneath Jack’s feet without waking him a few minutes later, desperately seeking the sanctuary of his room, with his books and his poetry. He hopes that William will be there – his roommate wasn’t exactly a fantastic conversationalist, but he provided Allen with a sense of calm. Allen always suspected that William was gifted, somehow. Brilliant, had a beautiful mind, but rarely showed it. Allen liked that.

Just before Allen reached his room, only a few doors away from his own, David stepped out from Lucien’s room. It made Allen stop, frozen with fear of what David might do. But David simply smiled at him, less primal than the look he’d given Lucien in the day room. It almost seemed genuine. But Allen knew better than that. His gaze momentarily flickered behind him, to Lucien’s room. He could see Lu sitting on the bed, tears tracks on his cheeks, eyes closed. David closed the door to Lucien’s room behind him as he left, stalking back out in to the day room, humming along to the Brahms piece that Allen didn’t even realize was playing from the nurse’s station.

He chose not to think about the fact that Lucien was shirtless. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not having updated this in so long! But I won't be abandoning this story, don't worry. I'll try update it more frequently from now on!


	4. Chapter 4

_William B._  
  
Allen’s fingers trace gently over the makeshift nameplate on their room’s door. It’s nothing special, just a piece of cardboard with the messy scrawl of David’s handwriting. Every door has the same – two cardboard strips, with the first names and last initials of the men sharing each room. They put the initial in place of the last name for privacy, but include it so they don’t get patients with the same first names confused.  
  
Allen’s nameplate sits just below William’s, but Allen’s looks newer. He suspects that there would be proper nameplates for each patient on the door to their room, if everything weren’t so temporary. Something about this entire place seems temporary, to Allen. Maybe it’s the fact that even the men who have been here for years haven’t made themselves at home, maybe it’s the fact that Allen refuses to accept that he’ll be here much longer. He hates it. But he doesn’t hate Lu, and that makes all the difference.  
  
Lu’s room is the only one in the ward without a second name on his door. There are tape markings under the _Lucien C._ , where a nameplate used to be. Allen wants to believe it meant Lucien’s previous roommate was released. But he knows it’s David’s doing, knows David wants the privacy and the isolation that comes with keeping Lucien in a room by himself. Lucien’s door is closed now, like it has been for the past two days. Jack and William are good enough company to keep Allen sane, but Lucien’s absence is more than notable. But Allen takes the bad with the good, supposes he kind find some selfish comfort in the simple fact that David’s mood has been better than usual.  
  
But without Lu lingering in the day room, Allen finds little reason to stray from his room. Jack passes by the open door, sometimes, when he gets bored. William, however, stays in the room with Allen. Allen can’t be sure if it’s out of comradery, or because he just wants to be high off of his medication in the safety of the enclosed walls. Even though they’ve rarely spoken to each other, Allen likes the company.  
  
“Stop doing that.” Allen looks turns his attention away from the hallway, from the doors and the nameplates, and now to William laying on his bed, who could easily pass for a corpse to the quickest of glances. “Doing what?” Allen asks, lingering in the doorway still, adjusting his glasses where they sit on his face. William laughs at that, a breathy and almost taunting sort of sound. He doesn’t move to get up, doesn’t move at all. He just lays there, staring at Allen. “You’re not going to get Lucien out of his room by staring at his door all day.”  
  
“I don’t know what you mean,” Allen answered honestly, glancing back at Lucien’s door. Had he really been staring? Allen had memorized the look of it – the cracks in the wood, the rust on the door handle, the affectionate cursive that Lucien’s name was written in on the cardboard. Perhaps he _had_ been staring. Staring, waiting. He’d barely caught glimpses inside, whenever David went in or out to give Lucien his medication.  
  
And, as if Jack had just been _waiting_ for the opportunity to comment on just that, he appeared in the hallway just outside of Allen’s door. “You been staring a hole through it since yesterday,” Jack said, a bit of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Allen hated it, hated that he hadn’t noticed. He was fixating again. The hospital’s therapist, a man whose name that Allen never bothered to remember, had told him that hyperfixation was part of the nature of his _condition_. Allen hated that, too. Because ‘condition’ was a nice way of saying ‘sickness’, in his mind. And Allen much preferred a harsh truth to a gentle lie.  
  
Allen glances back at William, and then to Jack, before peering out in to the hallway. David is nowhere to be seen, which is either a very good thing, or a very bad thing. Allen knows he isn’t in Lucien’s room, because he hasn’t been back since lunch. “Why won’t he come out?” Allen asks softly, the question directed more at Jack than William. Jack is always the more talkative. Allen watches Jack do the same thing, glancing both ways down the hallway. Jack is cautious, but not afraid. “Why do you think? David.”  
  
The answer wasn’t unexpected in the least. Allen didn’t particularly feel the need to ask for details, not wanting to run the risk of getting all three of them in trouble with his curiosity. Allen was curious by nature, yes, but knew when it was worth speaking up and when it wasn’t. Jack, Allen noticed, wasn’t quite the same way. He toed the line, liked running the risk, but not enough to get himself in to any trouble. “Speak of the Devil,” Jack mumbles, pulling Allen’s attention back to him. He’d been staring at Lu’s door again. But Jack’s gaze is focused down the hall, looking out towards the day room. When Allen peers out, he saw David appear from the nurse’s station, walking down the hall of bedrooms.  
  
It only took Allen a moment to realize where David was headed. The small cup of pills clutched in his hand was a giveaway. The ward was given their medication at very set times, and this wasn’t one of them. Allen could feel David’s eyes on him as he passed by, on the way to Lu’s door. He didn’t dare look up, because David would have stared him down. Even Jack didn’t look right at him. “Boys,” David greets briefly, in an almost pleasant tone. Considering that Lu likely hasn’t been taking his medication, David seems to be in a good mood. He was gone as soon as he had appeared, opening and closing the door to Lucien’s room, disappearing inside.  
  
“He loves it,” Jack says, the second the heard the door click shut. “Taking care of Lu. If he doesn’t take his meds, means David gets to spend more time _convincing_ him.” There’s no small amount of distaste in Jack’s voice, and Allen understood why. Since Lucien had locked himself away in his room, David had been in and out six or seven times a day, at least. Allen had counted. Sometimes he brought food. Sometimes he brought pills. Sometimes he didn’t bring anything at all. But he always spent twenty minutes or more behind that door.  
  
Which was why seeing David reappear from Lu’s room so suddenly was unusual. Unlike the care David usually took to close Lucien’s door quietly whenever he left, he slammed it shut this time. The pills were still in his hand – a hand which, Allen noted, was now sporting a deep bite mark. He walked down the hall in a silent fury, not sparing a glance for Allen or Jack. “Well, that didn’t sound good,” William muses from his place on the bed, recognizing the sound of Lu’s door being shut so forcefully. Jack nods in agreement, touching his own hand where the bite mark had been on David’s. If Allen didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that it was sympathy. “He’ll be out by tomorrow,” Jack nods, sparing a look at Lucien’s door. “Happens a few times a month.”  
  
“What happens?” Allen asks, unable to contain the question, now that David was safely behind the glass of the nurse’s station. Jack sighed, like he didn’t particularly want to answer, but knew that Allen would be pestering him about it if he didn’t. “Lu gets… I dunno. Low? Locks himself in his room and lets David play nurse,” Jack shrugs, looking back towards the nurse’s station. “But when he starts perking up again, he goes back to his old self. And his old self loves pissing off David.”  
  
For all the time that Allen has spent in the ward, for all that he’d learned that he wasn’t supposed to have learned, he still didn’t know what Lucien and David’s history was. It wasn’t for lack of asking, of course. But William and Jack were tight-lipped on it.  
  
Allen hears the doors to the ward swing open and shut, the squeaking of the door hinges always louder than whatever music was droning on from the record player. He hears Edie’s voice fluttering down the hall, the feminine tone so distinctly out of place with the rest of the ward. Jack picks it out immediately and turns on his heel, heading for the nurse without so much as a goodbye to Allen. He looks back over at William, unsurprised to see that he’s either asleep or pretending to be. Allen’s noticed that, about William. Even when he’s not on his medication, he’ll pretend to be out of it just so that he can avoid having to interact with anyone, so that he doesn’t have to be apart of conversation.  
  
He's about to go back to his bed. Perhaps he’ll read, perhaps he’ll write. Maybe he’ll just sleep until dinner. And then Lucien’s door cracks open. Allen hears it before he sees it, because for once, he’s not staring at that cardboard nameplate. When Allen turns, he sees Lu there, just behind his door. He hasn’t opened it the entire way, as though he’s worried he’ll catch David’s attention if he does. It’s only been two days, but Allen feels as though he hasn’t seen those eyes in years. Those beautiful eyes, with red rings around them. Lu’s been crying, and Allen wants so badly to take his pain away.  
  
But in sharp contrast to the redness, Lucien is smirking. Smirking like he’s won some kind of game Allen didn’t know he was playing. And then Lu raises a pale hand, beckons Allen to come forward. Allen stops breathing for a moment, doesn’t quite remember how. He’s frozen where he stands, caught between the safety of his own room and the promise of Lucien’s. Jack’s words echo in his mind – _David’ll kill you_ – and Allen wonders if Lucien Carr is really worth dying for.  
  
Allen looks down the hall, stares intently at the nurse’s station, as if he expects David to appear and rain fire down on them both. But when he looks back at Lu, all doubt is gone from his mind. Those eyes, that smirk, that skin, that _boy_. It’ll be the death of him. And Allen wants it. So he moves, fearlessly leaving his bedroom and going straight for Lucien. And Lu smiles at him in a way that makes Allen feel like he’s flying. “Ginsy,” he breathes, just as Allen gets to his doorway.  
  
“First thought, best thought.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that it took me so long to update this fic! I know people were saying it was a shame that I had abandoned it, but this is a story I do fully intend to complete. I appreciate everyone who's been reading and leaving me such lovely comments, both here and on my tumblr! if you guys are impatient for the next chapter, please let me know, and I'll have it up as soon as possible! thank you for the continued support!

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of a Tumblr prompt


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